


Avant Gardener

by CainReprobus



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Multi, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:10:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CainReprobus/pseuds/CainReprobus
Summary: A young woman finds herself face to face with a new life, which is proving to be more challenging than she had expected it to be. She was drowning in the city– why then, is she struggling to feel alive out here in the country? Will the people she meets change her fate for the better... or will she fall back into the same old patterns of her past?[ Please feel free to comment on where you want the story to go– I'd like this to be an interactive-esque story if I can achieve it! ]





	1. Do People Smoke Weed In Pelican Town?

I had never felt more crushed by reality than I did the day before I rewrote it.

When my grandfather died, years ago, when I was a little girl, I had wondered what his letter contained. The small note, antique parchment sealed with wax, stayed put on my bookshelf as I grew up, gathering dust and nearly being forgotten... But I remembered. I moved out, almost forgetting to take it with me. I got an apartment and stowed it away with the rest of my childhood junk. I got a job with the up and coming corporation, Joja. I had _finally_ gotten a handle on my life. I was happy.

Well, I said I was happy.

Then one day, I realized out of nowhere that I was not happy at all. I remembered that old letter, dug it out of the box, and would softly brush my fingers across the seal. What did it contain? Grandpa had told me the day would come where the world was too much for me. I shook my head and tossed it in my pile of junk mail. For weeks, maybe months, I remembered that letter, glanced at it where I’d thrown it on my coffee table. Days went by, my energy drained, and eventually, I couldn’t deny it anymore.

I was not happy, I realized, and it _was_ time.

My heart was as flat-out empty as the Coors cans on my studio floor, and that which I had come to know as happiness was simply a facade I’d crafted to fill the void. My day job? It tore me apart inside. My nights alone, downing light beers in my apartment, watching TV with not even a pet to comfort me? It made me cry and toss and turn at night. I was a fading mirage of fakeness to those around me, my coworkers, my family– what little was left of it. But my light was dimming, the mask cracking. I was losing the battle.

I needed change.

Just when I felt as though I couldn’t take it any longer, I opened the letter. In the blink of an eye, I had changed my life completely. Frankly, I hadn’t expected it to contain something so magical. A farmhouse was so perfect it was almost scary– it was as if he knew exactly what I’d always wanted, deep down.

Grandpa had handed me the perfect distraction. The ideal reason to live.

I had opened the letter, and as though no time at all had passed, I now found myself on the front steps of a small rural cottage.

A couple residents of the village–the mayor, Lewis, and the local carpenter, Robin–had greeted me at the bus stop. They seemed kind enough, so far, but I could sense a slight hostility coming off of the younger woman. Perhaps she had somewhat of a strained relationship with my grandpa, or perhaps she just didn’t like the looks of this city girl hopping off the bus all gung-ho like she was ready to own a farm. I tried not to let it bother me too much; I had lived most of my life on my own. Why should now be any different?

The future was blurry, still. I had willingly given up the most stable job I’d _ever_ had. It was one full of meaningless data entry and self-loathing, but it would have had me financially set for life. Why then, did everything in my heart and soul tell me to drop it all and come here? I stared out into the evening horizon, watching as the sun set over a brand new set of trees. No city buildings. Only me, the forest, and the sun itself, slowly descending in the sky. The farm was rather unkempt and overgrown, but so too was my heart.

I smirked, hopped down the porch stairs, and grabbed a rusty old scythe that was leaning nearby, giving the nearest cluster of weeds a playful slash. As they collapsed into piles of fiber, I realized that cleaning this place up would be a challenge, but doable. For the first time in years, I felt _energy_ pulsing through my veins. I didn’t even need a can of Monster or a Cumberland Farms dollar coffee– this was pure, unadulterated excitement. I smiled and hacked at another clump of overgrown dirt.

Both the farm and my mental state could use a little cleaning up.

“Farming, huh?” I muttered aloud to myself, twisting a strand of my hair, “I can dig it… Ha. Dig it. Get it?” 

I noted how unfunny my joke was, but chuckled anyway. Who was there to judge me?

With a heart full of hope and anxiety, I gazed into the distance as the sunlight faded into a dim dusk, then reluctantly turned inside. Never could I have expected this to become my life. This cabin to become my home. The Mayor had entrusted me with a starting supply of parsnips, and I had sown them in the earth already, a simple mark of of my territory.

“Very rustic, like the hunter-gatherers,” I said as I turned around, opening and closing my hands as though I could still feel the soil between my fingers, “I like it.”

Shaking my head, I berated myself mentally for talking to myself again. That being said, I knew I would do so repeatedly in the near future. It helped me focus sometimes, especially when I spent so much time all alone.

I shut the rickety door behind me and glanced around the tiny room I now called home. The light oak walls and retro television set reminded me of an old-style lake house. I’d never had a lake house, but I’d been camping once or twice. To be away from home and in nature was like a vacation. I took a deep breath and looked back down at my hands, not too strong, and not too callused. Soon enough, I figured they would have to be. This was no vacation.

This _was_ home, and this was my life now.

Collapsing backward onto the bed in the corner of my singular room, I dragged my hands down my face and laughed at myself. With the dawning of reality, I could feel the negative thoughts permeating the barrier of my adrenaline-fueled joy.

What if I fucked it up?

Ask anyone back in the city– I had a track record of fucking things up. Boyfriend after girlfriend after boyfriend, fling after fling after fling, job after job after shitty retail job; I had a habit of leaping head-first off cliffs and landing smack in a desolate pile of empty bottles of vodka and Mountain Dew. Despite all the lessons I should have learned, I kept finding myself teetering off similar cliffs. My job at Joja had been my first corporate position, my first in with a big business that could lead to making bigger and better money someday. I had finally started making my mark in the world as a competent businesswoman.

Only to realize… I was no businesswoman.

Instead of raking in that potential 100 million gold a year, I traded it all away for fifteen pouches of parsnip seeds and a couple acres of weed-infested farmland. Hopefully, those parsnips could be the beginning of a new kind of fortune. Whether or not financially, I figured I could feel rich as long as I had something meaningful in my life. A farm. I would find meaning in my farm.

I had no family, I had no friends, but I had a farm, and I would turn it into my everything if I had to.

A fire burned in a brick hearth in the corner of my room, and I stared at the empty mantle. I wondered what I’d end up putting on that mantle. Given that I was 25 and living alone on a farm, surely I was beyond the point of ever getting married and having kids to take pictures of. That ruled out the family portrait ideal. Are there farming awards? I could picture some nice little farming awards. Maybe I could display my nicest bong. Suddenly, I panicked. Do people smoke weed in Pelican Town?

I grabbed my one-hitter that I’d stashed on the table next to my bed and took a long, long drag. I exhaled, curled up under my covers and sighed. There were too many thoughts racing in my head. How was I supposed to sleep?

Nonetheless, I knew a farmer’s job was never over. I would need to be up bright and early tomorrow. There were crops to water, weeds to clear, trees to chop, and acquaintances to make. This was a new beginning, and when I woke up, maybe, if I was lucky, I would feel like a new person.

I slowly cleared her mind, put my negative thoughts to rest, and calmed myself down. As the cool air of the first night of Spring surrounded me, I settled slowly into my new bed. When I awoke, I would embrace my new life.

From now on, I would handle whatever life threw at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is a concept I've been nursing, and while I have some vague ideas of where I'm going with it, I'm very open to interpretation. So, reader, I ask of you– **what should our young protagonist do next?**


	2. Coked-Out Lookin' Chicken Man

I awoke to the crow of a rooster I did not own.

“What the fuck…” I grumbled, rolling over and covering my ears with my pillow. Normally, I would have curled up and fallen back asleep, but as the fresh spring air filled my lungs, I realized I’d woken up somewhere other than my apartment. Everything came back to me! I jolted up in my bed and smiled, exhaling and stretching my arms.

The rooster crowed again. I mockingly crowed back at him. Whose rooster was that? I was pretty certain it wasn’t mine, given that this farm had been abandoned for decades; I highly doubted there would still have been livestock around. With a renewed sense of energy I hadn’t felt since I was a child, I bolted out the door, grabbed a rusty watering can, and started tending to my newly sprouted parsnips. I tenderly felt the tiny leaf of the plant I was raising myself. It was so exciting… but what else was there to do now?

I looked up at the fields and fields of trees, rocks, and grass. Ah, yes. That’s what else there was to do. As I got up and started swinging my scythe randomly at various grass and weeds, I heard the distant rooster’s crow again. I narrowed my eyes. Seriously, whose rooster _was_ that? Intrigued by my potential neighbor, I decided to find out, and get some work done as I did so. The sound seemed to be coming from the southern end of my farm– I would bushwhack my way there, and in the end, I’ll have cleared a path!

Slowly but surely, I slashed my way through the forest of debris. I chopped down a few small trees, knocked away some rocks, and cut down a _lot_ of weeds. Jesus, I’d never seen more weeds in my life. Finally, after what felt like hours, I made it to the other side, exiting my property through a small rocky pass.

Below my farm, according to the map Lewis had given me, was Cindersap Forest. To my right, the forest indeed seemed to be. To my left, there was a small ranch with a yard full of various farm animals. Wide-eyed, I made my way over to the fence and gazed at the vast selection of livestock. Cows, pigs, sheep, chickens– _chickens!_ I scanned the crowd of animals until I settled on one majestic, dark-feathered fellow.

“You’re the culprit!” I declared, pointing in his general direction. He stared at me with his beady little chicken eyes and clucked neutrally. Pouting, I crossed my arms, “Listen, I’m not mad. Just don’t act all innocent.”

Someone coughed behind me. Startled, I whirled around and gasped, clutching my chest with her right hand.

“...you got a problem with my chickens?”

I blinked and opened my mouth, clueless as to what to say. My addresser was a man, probably in his mid-thirties by the looks of his scraggly five o’clock shadow and unkempt hair. He stared at me with narrow, judging green eyes. He lived here? Somehow, that surprised me. That look on his face screamed, “Never speak to me, ever,” so naturally, I was deeply intrigued.

“Y- Your chickens? Sorry, I uh, your rooster-”

“Don’t care. Just don’t be an idiot.”

Without a goodbye, the strange man rolled his eyes and kept walking, shoving his hands in the pockets of his blue sweatshirt… hell, was that a Joja sweatshirt? I had one just like it, until I’d burned it the night before I moved here. Wait, was there a Joja Mart in this town? I scoffed. Figures. Having been distracted, I hardly realized that the man, whoever he was, was nearly completely out of sight.

“I’m Emma, by the way!” I called out, raising my hand to wave, but he neither turned around nor replied, “Nice to… meet you too…” 

I sighed. First, the carpenter has it out for me. Now, chicken man addresses me just to blow me off. I exhaled sharply and whacked the ground next to a pile worms on the ground with my hoe. Friendly people around here, huh?

The worms scrambled away to reveal the edge of something dark and leathery. I narrowed my eyes and crouched down, brushing away the dirt and digging the object out of the ground. It turned out to be a small, old-looking book. I gazed at it with wonder…

“What the fuck am I gonna do with this?”

“Excuse me?”

Taken off guard for the second time in minutes, I stumbled back out of my crouching position, dropping the book and throwing my arms out behind me to save myself. From a crab-walk position, I managed a somewhat-creepy smile and tilted my head anxiously.

“Uh… hi!”

The middle-aged woman who had opened the door looked at me with concern, “Are you… alright? I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Marnie.”

Exhaling in relief at the sight of someone who didn’t seem hostile, I hoisted myself up, bent over and picked the book off the ground. As I dusted it off a little, I introduced myself, “Nice to meet you! I’m Emmaline Besorgtaffe.”

“Who now?”

“I’m Emma.” I didn’t feel like spelling it out today, “I moved into my grandfather’s farm, right up there.”

Marnie’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, how charming! Your grandfather was a wonderful man…” She got a dreamy, distant look in her eyes, then shook her head, smiling brightly, “Oh, come in! I’m making coffee, do stay for a cup!”

I had about 500 gold in my pocket. A free coffee from a nice animal lady certainly couldn’t hurt. Besides, wasn’t introducing myself around supposed to be the itinerary for today?

“Sure, I’d like that.”

We entered the ranch and Marnie brought me into the kitchen, where a tiny child was at the table eating pancakes with her hands. As Marnie walked past her and toward the coffee machine, she glared at the girl. Reluctantly, she huffed and put down her food, eating it instead with a fork.

“This is my niece, Jas. Say hi, Jas.”

“Hi.”

Jas stared at me, uninterested, and went back to eating her pancakes.

Marnie turned back to me and handed me a cup of freshly brewed black coffee, “So what brings you down here so early?”

“Your rooster woke me up,” I laughed, and Marnie looked mortified, “No worries, I’m not angry! A farmer never sleeps. I just wanted to know where it was coming from.”

Marnie nodded, apologetic nonetheless, and smiled sheepishly, “That’s Roger. He can be a little arrogant at times.”

I nodded knowingly, remembering my standoff with the cock, and sipped her coffee, “I can tell. Is he uh, yours?” I couldn’t possibly forget the coked-out lookin’ asshole who’d claimed Roger as his own mere moments before. It was 7:30 AM. He probably hadn’t even slept.

Again, Marnie nodded, pausing to finish her sip of coffee before she replied, “Yes, I take care of all the animals here on the ranch. But my nephew Shane has been staying here for a while, and he helps out with the chickens a lot. I’d introduce you, but he just headed out to go to work.”

“Ah, yes. The Joja sweatshirt,” I recalled absently.

“...You know him?”

“We’re acquainted... Sorry, did I say that out loud?”

Marnie chuckled anxiously. I looked at the wall. Already, my quirky nature was unnerving people, as always. Why was I like this, again? I couldn’t let my social anxiety get me down, though. My newfound farm was my first priority, and Marnie had inspired me– now, I knew I needed to aim to get some animals someday.

“Anyway, I have some stuff to get done, but I’ll see you around.”

“Of course,” Marnie said with a genuine smile, which relieved a lot of my anxiety, “Come see me for all your animal care needs, okay?”

“Have a nice day!" I bid her adieu and went on my way.

As I headed off to the center of town, I ran into another child, this one playing with a stick in the sand. He looked so painfully bored that I couldn’t even take it. I approached him warily.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

The kid looked up at me with dumb blank child eyes, “Mom says not to talk to strangers.”

“Oh…” What does one say to that? “Well I’m Emma, I just moved in.”

“I’m Vincent, my dad’s off fighting in the war.”

I stared at Vincent and the void stared back.

“Ooohh…” I mumbled, at a complete loss. Children were tricky, sometimes. Thankfully, I was saved just in time. A door opened and closed behind us.

“Vince, mom’s gonna kill you.” 

Vincent and I looked up to see the newcomer, a guy around my age with spiky blonde hair and blue eyes. He gave the kid a stern look and raised his eyebrows, “You know how pissed she gets when you come home all dirty. If I were you, I’d wash up in the river before she sees you. Wouldn’t wanna lose dessert privilege.”

Eyes wide, Vincent scrambled up and down to the river, which flowed right to the south of where they were standing. The man took his eyes off Vincent and turned them to me. His toothy grin struck me like a bolt of lightning.

“Hey,” he put out his hand, “I’m Sam. I see you met my brother.”

I shook it and smiled, “I’m Emma. He seems… nice.”

“He’s a brat,” Sam confirmed, “You new around here? I think I’d have noticed a cute girl hanging around my house before.”

I blushed profusely and stumbled over a reply, “Oh well, I moved from the city to live on my grandpa’s farm.”

Sam nodded approvingly, “Seems legit. Well I gotta go have dinner, but I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Y- Yeah. Uh huh. See you around.”

He headed off towards the town and left me stuck in my tracks. Already, I was swooning over some random stranger. He was cute, though, seemed charming, and I knew a nerd when I saw one. Anyone who knew me would know that I was bound to fall for anyone- but it was exciting! I wanted to get to know him. In fact, he left me hoping I could get to know everyone around here a little better.

As I skipped off into town to meet some other folks, I whistled. Maybe, just maybe, Stardew Valley had potential after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, if anyone has any suggestions as to who she should talk to/what she should do, please let me know :3


	3. Don't Shop At Joja

Heart still aflutter from my experience with the dashing stranger, I forged onward into the town square. A few strangers caught my eye, but I wasn’t sure what to say to them as I passed. Luckily, most of them approached me first, albeit a little warily.

“Oh hello there miss,” said an older woman with narrow eyes and decades worth of smile lines on her face, “You must be Walter’s granddaughter. I’d heard you would be coming to town. I’m Evelyn, but if you’d like you can call me Granny.”

“Nice to meet you! I’m Emma,” I replied, smiling politely and shaking the woman’s hand. I heard a gruff scoff from off to the side and turned to see a man around the same age in a wheelchair giving me a dirty look. Evelyn scowled at him.

“George, stop being rude and say hello to dear Emma.”

“Hello,” George said, emotionlessly. Evelyn sighed heavily, looking at her husband with a pitying, almost longing gaze. She snapped out of her stupor, turned towards me, and worked those smile lines again.

“Pardon his behavior, young miss,” Evelyn muttered, “He’s a little irate these days… Well, we must get going. See you around, dearie.”

“Thanks, Granny,” I blurted. Now thoroughly intrigued by the nature of the inhabitants of this village, I headed for the door of a building labeled Pierre’s General Store. Before I walked in, the bulletin board on the wall caught my attention. There was a calendar, and three days from today, the words “Kent’s birthday” were scrawled in abysmal print, then crossed out. Underneath it, a small child had drawn a crude sad face. I decided not to think too much into it, but people in this town clearly had no shortage of issues.

Clearly, I would fit in here more than I thought.

I swung open the door to the general store and glanced around. It was rather small, but it was quaint. I liked it. The man working nearly jumped over the counter when he spotted someone coming in the door.

“ _A customer!_ Er, I mean. Welcome! How can I help you today?”

“Uhh…” I emptied my pockets and tossed their contents onto the store counter, “What can I get for 500 gold, a bobby pin, an old hair tie, and some pebbles?”

The man looked at me and pushed up his glasses, sighing and taking the gold in his hands. He eyed me like I was just some meddling kid. He was hot, in a dad kind of way, “Well, 500 gold will get you some seeds. You’re the farm girl, right?”

I was already getting sick of being known that way, “Yes, I’m the farm girl. I do have a name, though, and it’s Emma. Would I be wrong to assume you’re Pierre?”

Pierre’s mouth hung open, as though he were going to introduce himself, “...you are correct. Anyway, do you want the seeds or not? I can’t say I can really take the other er, items, off your hands.”

“Sure. Give me uh, however many of your bestest seeds.”

Pierre smiled in the painful way only customer service employees and kindergarten teacher’s know how, tossing some seed packets down onto the counter, “Sure, here you are. Have a great day! Don’t shop at Joja!”

I blinked and pocketed the seeds, “Right, I uh. Wasn’t gonna. See you around, Pierre.”

“ _Dad!_ ”

Preventing me from leaving with the allure of drama, a young college age girl burst out of the back room, shooting a piercing glare at Pierre. Pierre’s cordial store demeanor melted and he winced, like he wasn’t prepared to deal with _this again_.

“Yes, Abigail?”

The beautiful stranger crossed her arms and huffed, “Mom’s being an asshole again. I’m going out to hang with Sam and Sebastian.”

Pierre sighed, “Darling, you know your mother’s just trying her-”

Abigail slammed the front door of the store behind her, nearly leaving skid marks as she did so.

“-best.”

Apologetically, Pierre looked at me, “I’m sorry. That’s my daughter, Abigail. She and uh, my wife, don’t get along all that well.”

I narrowed my eyes. His stammering and hesitant language led me to believe he wasn’t telling the whole truth. If there was anything I was good at these days, it was determining a deadbeat dad when I saw one. Still hot though.

“Mmm, yeah, totally,” I agreed, “Anyway. Gotta go… not be here. Farm things. Bye.”

Pierre furrowed his brow, “Uh… Okay. Please come again!”

With a few more seeds in my pocket, I wandered back to my farm and got to work. I spent the rest of the afternoon sowing the seeds and then took a step back, evaluating my work. It was nothing special, these patches of dirt were the start of my very own farm. Exhausted, I sighed and collapsed on my front stairs. I stared at the dirt below my feet vacantly, wondering how the hell I was going to make this work. I kicked my boots together and looked up at the sky over the clusters of trees and debris.

It would be hard, but I had sacrificed everything for this. I was going to make it work if it killed me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again folks, let me know if anyone has any particular ideas on how i should continue this fic :3


	4. Millenials Are Fake Adults

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi: i changed the perspective from 3rd to 1st person
> 
> also this chapter takes up almost half of the entire fic lmao

Days passed, and I found myself caught in a cycle. Go to town. Buy seeds. Plant seeds. Water seeds. Farming was somehow even _harder_ than I had once thought; I was having trouble conserving my energy. If I spent the morning on my farm and ended up overworking myself, I would be exhausted by three PM. On this particular warm, spring day, I may have worked myself to the bone. I leaned on my hoe and stared out at my field, breath ragged and sweating profusely. Over the last few weeks, I'd made a significant amount of progress in clearing out the debris that was scattered around, but there was still much work to be done.

In fact, I'd really only cleared about one fourth of my entire field space. The thought of doing more of this for who knows how long made me sick. It was about six in the evening and the sun was finally beginning to set. Because farming was a very slow-profit profession, I often ended up doing odd jobs around town to make an extra buck. The old man who lived on the dock had given me a crappy fishing rod, free of charge, and I had gotten relatively decent at catching tiny nearly-worthless fish. Nearly-worthless was not quite worthless. Nearly-worthless meant a couple hundred gold in my pocket, which was a couple hundred more than I usually had.

By the 12th of Spring, I had made quite a profit off of my crops, but it seemed like there was always something else coming along that would bankrupt me out of necessity. I made money, spent money, made money, spent money, but when would I ever really _see_ some money? Sure, I hadn't expected to be living like a king out here in the boonies, but I hadn't been expecting to be surviving off raw vegetables and stale cookies I found in the trash either.

"If you ever come into money, let me know," the local carpenter, Robin, told me one day, wrinkling her nose, "I can uh... build you a bathroom. And a kitchen. You could have a shower, a stove, a toilet... a _shower_."

"Noted," said I, who had been bathing in the pond on my property for weeks, "Thanks."

This evening, I was sick of just lazing around smoking weed when I was too tired to work anymore. Instead, I figured, it's a Friday night. I should visit the saloon and maybe, well, make some friends for once in my life. Most of the villagers seemed to regard me with a certain level of aversion, or at least that's how it seemed from the way they talked to me. All the older people especially talked down on me like I was some kind of dirty animal. In fact, George had called me a raccoon to my face, which I found _extremely_ offensive, but somehow it only made me like him more. If I went out, maybe it would be awkward... if no one liked me, showing up could disrupt everyone else's good time.

I didn't want to be a bother.

 _Wait,_ I realized, _Why am I thinking like that? I'm Emmaline Besorgtaffe. I can do what I want._

That settled it- I would go out on the town.

After smoking another bowl to calm my nerves, I made the quick scenic walk to the local saloon. Every walk was scenic in Stardew Valley, but especially with the sun falling below the mountains and treetops, I found the atmosphere particularly enchanting. Town was quiet aside from the faint rumbling of activity from within the Stardrop Saloon. Anxiously, but mind wandering from the slight buzz I had going, I walked up to the entrance and swung open the front door. Immediately, a good chunk of the conversation stalled out. I smiled awkwardly. Great.

No one said anything to me, but Shane did look up at me for a second from where he was drinking a beer in the corner alone.

"Hi Emma!" The day was saved by the man with the anime hair. From the right corner of the saloon, Sam was waving at me from behind a pool table. Across from him, a boy around the same age with dark black shaggy hair and all-black clothes was eyeing a shot, carefully pulling back his cue. I walked over to them and the rest of the saloon continued ignoring me. The boy studied the cue ball, and it felt as though any sudden movement or loud noise could break the boy's concentration. I watched with bated breath as he narrowed in on the perfect angle. Finally, he smacked the cue ball, knocking it across the table, off the back bumper, and over to knock two balls into the far left pocket. I felt a wave of awe come over me as I watched him, smirking and trying to hide his excitement. I was thoroughly impressed and somewhat aroused, just the way I liked it.

"Wow," I breathed, and he finally acknowledged my existence, "That was cool."

"Right?" The emo kid replied as Sam started queuing up a shot of his own, "Who are you again?"

"I'm Emma," I scratched the back of my neck. Was I high, or did he look really good in this shitty saloon lighting? "I don't think we've met."

"Oh, yeah," he said, knowingly, but I couldn't place what he was thinking, "Sam's told me about you. I'm Sebastian."

In the corner, I noticed the purple-haired girl from Pierre's reading a book on a bench. Nervously, as she seemed to be quite the loose cannon, I approached her. She noticed me looming over her, but did not react, hoping maybe I would go away. I didn't. She sighed and looked up. Her glare was sharp enough to kill me, like a beautifully crafted sword.

"May I help you?" Abigail asked, bored.

"Oh uh, not really," I stammered, twirling my hair. Too many hot people around. I was off my game, "I'm just saying hi."

Abigail smiled mockingly and shook her head, "Well. Hi!" She dropped the smile and looked back at her book, "And bye."

Sebastian looked at me apologetically and pulled me to the other side of the room, lowering his voice to a whisper, "Sorry about that... she's going through some stuff."

"It's no problem. I gathered that last time we met, as well."

"She can be a bit..." Sebastian paused and looked at the ceiling, searching for the right words.

"...of a loose cannon?"

Sebastian shrugged and nodded, "I was gonna say erratic, but same thing. You drink?"

I nodded as fervently as I could muster, "Literally anything."

"Cool. I'll get you a beer."

Sebastian walked over to the bar and Sam put down his cue. He'd made a shot without much luck, and Sebastian had elected to take a break as well, walking away to get me a drink. Sam eyed me with a strange look on his face. I tilted my head.

"You okay, man?"

He shook his head and grinned, "Oh, yeah. Just spacey is all. I'm a lil tipsy."

"Same," I confessed, not knowing exactly how to make conversation, "Um... so..." I went with my fallback plan, "Do you smoke weed?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, "What else is there to do around here?"

I exhaled in relief, "Oh, thank god. I was worried I was the only one."

Shaking his head, Sam plopped himself down in the booth closest to the pool table, "The adults around here can be sticklers, but we younger folks tend to partake in the smoking of kush. I mean, I'm an adult.... But the adult adults."

"I get it," I assured him, sitting on the opposite side of the booth, "Millennials are fake adults."

"Exactly," he nodded. Silence. I stared into space, sort of just starting to zone out. Sam coughed, "So, how's farming? I haven't really seen you around much since you first got here, so I can imagine you've been busy."

"I have been," I said as Sebastian arrived at the table with three beers balanced precariously in his hands. He placed one in front of Sam, one in front of me, and sat down in the booth next to me. I flushed like a beet, and I swore I saw Sam start to shuffle around nervously.

Were two guys _actually_ fighting over me right now? Wow, I could get used to this.

"Farming is a lot of work," I continued, "Sometimes I fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon."

Sam laughed, "That happens a lot around here. There's absolutely nothing to do."

"I like to stay up late and sleep in," Sebastian said, "I work from like four to midnight sometimes."

"I worked four to midnight for months at a Joja Mart once," I said, "Is that where you work?"

Sebastian chuckled awkwardly, "Uh, no, I actually work as a freelance programmer. I make my own hours."

"He sits in his room all day," Sam explained, " _I_ work at Joja Mart." 

I nodded understandingly. Sebastian went red.

"Listen, I make money too you know," he whined, crossing his arms. I smirked, elbowing him in the ribs. He jolted.

"Hey, don't freak out," I assured him, "I get it, I get it. Nerd work is real work. Stay woke."

Sebastian looked at me funny. Yeah, "stay woke" wasn't the best choice in that scenario... Words were hard.

"I can't believe you beat me at pool again..." Sam muttered, staring into his beer. Sebastian smirked and took a sip of his, leaning his arm on the table.

"I can," Sebastian stated simply, "You really don't ever get any better."

Sam sighed, "Yeah... I know. But hey, that doesn't matter. I like playing with you guys- its not about winning."

"I still wish Abby would get in on a game or two," Sebastian sighed, "But she just stays in her little corner and chats occasionally. That's fine and all, but I want to kick her ass."

I looked around the saloon and caught Shane staring at me again, over a beer from in his lonely corner. All the attention from chicken man tonight had caught me off-guard, so I blushed awkwardly and looked away. Why was he looking at me? Did he hate me that much, or did he have _ulterior motives?_ All I did was instigate his rooster a little... jeez, can't we all just forgive and forget?

"So what do you think, Em?" Sam asked me, and I looked up at him vacantly.

"Eh?"

"She wasn't listening," Sebastian confirmed, "We were wondering what you'd say to a game of pool."

"Oh... us three?" I wasn't sure I'd really stand a chance against Sebastian, but I was okay, so maybe I could at least come out on top of Sam.

"Actually, I was gonna try and convince Abigail to play too," Sebastian said, "She might if there's new blood at the table."

"Hmm..." I contemplated the offer for a second, twisting my hair around nervously, "Sure. I guess I can play. I'm not very good though, just remember that."

"Noted," Sebastian cracked his knuckles, "Well, finish your drinks. I'm gonna go smoke, then we'll ask Abby if she wants to play."

At his words, I realized just how badly I craved a smoke as well, "Can I come with you?"

Sebastian raised his eyebrows, seemingly shocked by the idea that I smoked, "Oh, uh. Sure, yeah. Sam, you coming?"

"Nah," Sam shook his head and finished off his beer, "I gotta get a head-start convincing Abby to play."

"That's a noble endeavor," Sebastian nodded solemnly, "Go with god, friend."

Sam clenched a fist over his heart. Sebastian saluted, and we both downed what little was left of our drinks and headed for the door. As we walked outside, I quickly glanced in Shane's direction. At that moment, I saw him look at me. I shuddered, still unsure whether he was looking at me out of malice or out of desire. Either way, I was sort of digging it. Coked-out chicken man probably knew how to have a good time.

I shook my head. Why was I even thinking about him? Although, I knew the answer. Shane was obviously the worst possible bachelor in town to go for... and that was why I was thinking about him. I was a disaster magnet. Like a bait trap, but for cruel alcoholic men.

Instead, I stepped alone into the night with Sebastian.

Sebastian cased the area to make sure we were alone, then pulled out what was either a joint or a crudely rolled cigarette and a lighter, placing it between his lips and lighting it. I didn't want to be rude by smoking his shit, so I pulled out my bowl and took a hit of my own weed. Sebastian looked at me.

"Is that weed?"

"Yeah," I said, "Is that tobacco?"

"Yeah."

"Trade?"

"Yeah."

We smirked at each other, barely illuminated by the light filtering out from inside the saloon, and traded pieces. I took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled contently. I'd been smoking since I was fourteen-- I highly doubted I'd be able to quit anytime soon, nor did I really intend on trying. Death take me. Sebastian seemed equally pleased with the quality of his hit.

"Thanks for that," Sebastian sighed, handing me back my bowl, "I've been broke lately, so I'm fresh out of dank."

"No problem," I told him, passing back the cigarette, "I used to grow, so I have a bit of a stash."

Sebastian raised his eyebrows and took a drag, "Really? You're full of surprises."

I narrowed my eyes, "Why is this all surprising?"

"I dunno," Sebastian shrugged, "You just seemed a lot... weirder, from what Sam told me about you."

"Oh," my heart sank, "I guess that makes sense."

"Not that we mind," Sebastian tried to clarify, "Weird can be cool."

"Yeah," I muttered, "It can be."

We finished our smoke session in relative silence. I wasn't sure what to make of this Sebastian guy, honestly. He seemed a little bit douchey for my tastes, but I supposed I could get along with him if Sam could. As for Abigail, I was even more uncertain. It didn't seem like she cared about my existence in the slightest. Well, maybe playing a game of pool with them would help break some of the tension. I understand not wanting to immediately welcome the new girl into your friend group.

After we were done, we both went inside and headed towards the back. I glanced around for Shane and found him sitting at the bar, now, watching an older woman I'd heard referred to as Pam ramble and not looking in my direction. Maybe I'd talk to him later, if I got the guts. I was too broke to buy myself another beer, but if one of the boys offered... I'd certainly go for it.

Abigail was standing with one hand on her hip and the other gripping a pool cue, "Emma, is it? Prepare to lose."

I smiled, "Worry not, I'm very prepared."

The game started off relatively uneventfully, but as the ace Sebastian gained momentum, Abigail upped her game in turn. It quickly became more of a standoff between the two of them, with Sam and I not even standing a chance. We tried, sure, but our moves only served to set up shots for the other more-skilled players. At least, as I expected, I was doing a little better than he was. As Abigail glared with Bobby Fisher-like intensity down her cue, I looked at Sam, who shrugged. Why were we even in this game, again? She shot two balls into one pocket and Sebastian nodded analytically, plotting his next move.

Soon enough, the game ended with Abigail trailing Sebastian by only a few points. He smiled, satisfied with the outcome, and Abigail huffed indignantly.

"I should have had that!" She grumbled, angrily shoving her cue back on the rack.

Sebastian mockingly put his hand to his chin, as though contemplating, "Hmmm, well, looks like you didn't."

"Bastard," she hissed, but couldn't hide the beginnings of a smile turning up the corners of her lips. Sebastian chuckled and walked over to her, ruffling her hair patronizingly. She scowled, but allowed him to do it. Until now, I hadn't realized just how tall Sebastian was. Abigail was by no means short, yet he still seemed to loom a few inches above her at all times. Compared to me, he was a literal beanpole.

"That was fun!" Sam said, although we didn't do much at all, "I'm tired, though... I think I should head home, alright guys?"

Sebastian nodded, "I get it. I think I'll head back too. I'm sick of all the people."

"Can I stay over at your house, tonight, Seb?" Abigail asked him. I raised my eyebrows in Sam's direction, but he shook his head vigorously.

Taken aback by the request, Sebastian paused, "Uh, yeah. Of course you can. Are things okay?"

"Yeah," Abigail said, "I'm just a little irritated with my dad lately."

"I get it," Sebastian assured her with a smile, "You're welcome any time."

"Thanks, Sebastian... Bye-bye, guys," Abigail offhandedly waved, dragging Sebastian to the exit with her, "See you whenever, farm girl."

I sighed. Farm girl. Typical. After they left, I turned back towards Sam.

"Are they fucking or what?" I asked. Sam inhaled sharply through his teeth.

"Ha, that's a tricky subject..." he began, and when I glared him down for more information, he sighed and continued, "Well, you see, Abigail's a lesbian."

"Oh," I said, surprised, but not at all displeased, "Wait... _oh_... He's in love with her, isn't he?"

Sam smiled bitterly and nodded, "Hopelessly, yeah."

I mimicked Sam's sharp hiss from before, "Yikes."

"Yeah, yikes," Sam confirmed, then patted me on the shoulder, "Anyway, I'm heading out. You gonna be alright?"

I nodded, "Yeah, I'm not quite ready to go home yet. Thanks, though, I had fun tonight."

"No problem, we tend to hang out here every Friday," he told me, but then his expression darkened, "Just hey, promise you won't bring up the whole Abigail thing with Seb, okay?"

"I promise. I don't need to start any drama."

"Awesome, thanks," Sam seemed relieved, and headed for the door, "Wait, you going to the egg festival tomorrow?"

I blinked and tilted my head, "The egg festival?"

"It's pretty lame but, it can be fun," Sam smiled, "It takes place in the town square on the 13th every year. You should stop by-- the whole town will be there."

"Okay!" I liked the idea of an egg festival. My family was never all that religious, but when Easter rolled around we would occasionally meet up with family for an egg hunt of some kind. That was before I isolated myself from all of my family.

"Awesome," Sam said, putting his hand on the doorknob, "See you soon, okay?"

"Yeah," I smiled contentedly, "See you soon."

He left, and I wandered over to the bar and hopped up on a stool next to Shane. He noticed me and looked over, but didn't say anything. The man behind the counter, Gus, came over to take my order.

"Hey there Emma!" He greeted me excitedly, and I was pleased to hear that he remembered my name, "What can I getcha?"

"I don't have any money," I smiled uncomfortably.

Shane, who I didn't even realize was still watching, piped up, "Add it to my tab."

I raised my eyebrows and smiled, pondering for a moment, and glancing at the draft menu, "Hmm... can I get a Mermaid's Pendant IPA?"

Gus nodded, "Coming right up!"

Shane chuckled, and I turned towards him. By the look on his face, he'd already had a few. He looked me over for a quick second and said, "Mermaid's Pendant, huh? A woman after my own heart..."

I rolled my eyes, " _You_ like expensive IPAs?"

He shrugged, taking a sip of his own Coors Light, "I like a girl who can drink. See, I'm too cheap for expensive IPAs..."

"...but when someone else is buying, why not?" I completed his sentence, and he nodded.

"Exactly," he grinned, and I was surprised by just how cute he looked when he actually bothered smiling, "So I like your style."

Until tonight, Shane had never spoken more than a few words to me at a time. Since the day we met, we'd run into each other quite a few times around town in the early morning as he headed to work. I always tried to talk to him, but he never seemed to want anything to do with me. Now, though, it seemed he was finally willing to make conversation with me. I was glad... I really had been trying to get past his outer shell of bitterness.

Drunk Shane was far more fun than sober, six in the morning Shane.

"So, do you work tomorrow?" I asked as my drink arrived. Shane shook his head.

"Nah. I get weekends off. Maybe the one perk of my job, if one can even call it that."

"I used to work for Joja," I explained, "I understand. Let me assure you, corporate management was just as crushing as retail."

Shane muttered, "I could use the paycheck, though..."

"Yeah," I laughed nervously, "I gave that all up for farming."

He raised his eyebrows, "That bad, huh?"

"Oh yeah. That bad."

Shane looked at me for a minute. I observed him as well, taking in the reality of this disheveled, drunken man who as far as I was aware, had no real life or friends. His five o'clock shadow was dark and patchy, and his eyes were dull from both the liquor and the crushing reality of life. I understood that dullness well... it was my instinct to want to be there for him.

God, this was a horrible idea.

"Hey, so, um," Shane stumbled over his words, clearly feeling his beers more than he'd like to admit, "What are you doing tonight?"

I paused, having seen this coming, "I gotta get to sleep, honestly. A farmer's work never ends. I gave up my weekends as well as my paycheck."

"Wow," Shane muttered, "You sure you're okay, in the head that is?"

I scoffed, "No, not remotely."

Shane shrugged, "Fair enough. Well, see you around, okay?"

"Yeah, absolutely." I finished my beer and nodded my thanks at Gus, standing up from my barstool.

"Thanks a lot, Emma!" Gus called out as I headed for the door, "Come back again soon, you hear?"

I hadn't even given him any money tonight, but he was certainly still laying the sales pitch on thick, "Of course, Gus. I'll be around."

I left the saloon and headed back to my farm, thoughts whirling in my inebriated head. Things were going okay... not great, but okay. It seemed as though I wasn't quite as much of a social outcast as I thought I was. Maybe, I would make some progress at the egg festival tomorrow... or maybe, I would just end up alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Who should Emma talk to at the egg festival?**


End file.
